


the hazel eyed boy

by pan_dora



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chris screwed up, First Meetings, M/M, Nivanfield, One-Shot, Post Resident Evil 6, Pre Resident Evil 6, Slow Burn, pre Marhawa Desire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4696796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pan_dora/pseuds/pan_dora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Chris and Piers meet - and one time, they might not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the hazel eyed boy

“Oh, wow,” His sister's words brought Chris back into the here and now. Was he staring? Shit. He was probably staring. She’s never going to let that go. “He looks like he’s just leaped down a catwalk.” She turned around again, nodding slightly as if she wanted to approve of his staring – or at least understood why he did it. 

The boy – because let’s be honest, he can’t be older than twenty – mentioned was standing at the station, a grey sports bag slung over his shoulders, a Starbucks drink in his one and a smartphone in his other hand. He wore similar colored clothes. A pair of jeans, dark grey and washed-out, with black boots. Claire could probably even tell what kind of boots those are. If he remembered correctly they were named after a city. A khaki colored parka shielded the boy from the cold, as well as his ass from being looked at. Which was quite sad. A grey scarf, which reminded Chris vaguely of a shemagh, saved part of his face from the blazing snow. He wore black gloves. Besides his pink cheeks, the piercings hazel eyes and the disheveled hair, everything else was hidden beneath layers of clothing. Not too surprising during this time of the year. 

As the streetcar skidded to a halt, the boy looked up from his phone. For a second, Chris feared he would catch him staring but the hazel eyes roam the wagon instead. His brows furrowed before he went to the right. With him two other guys and a family of three entered the streetcar. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw the boy go past. He stopped a couple of feet away from them. 

Claire grinned at him so wide Chris hoped her cheeks hurt from it. She turned her head a little, nodding in the direction of the boy. She was kidding him, right? Although his sister was known for a lot of crazy ideas, Claire couldn’t be serious about it. They were not less than at least seventeen years apart. The mere mention was ridiculous. 

“Speak to him,” She whispered. 

Chris settled on rolling his eyes, accidentally catching the hazel eyed boy pulling off the glove of his right hand with his teeth. That shouldn’t look as attractive as it did. Long fingers swiped over his phone. He frowned at something, then he pushed it into the pocket of his parka. 

“Shut up,” He muttered a little too late. Claire sighed shaking her head. Not that she was any better with relationships than he was. They both sucked when it came down to love, and every attempts were suffocated by work. Being a soldier had never been an easy life but with the whole zombie apocalypse going on, it was even worse. People’s lives have become shorter, humans have become warier, trying their best not to get hurt. But becoming involved with a soldier was bound to end in emotional pain.

As the streetcar jerks to a start, the boy grabbed the pole with one hand although his stance appears to be pretty secure. Obviously, he seemed not to be a fan of staying during the ride because he looked over his shoulder, in search of a free seat. Not a surprise. Slight jolts were usual in this kind of weather, and no one wanted to risk falling when braking. 

Luck – or the lack thereof – was on Chris’ side today. The boy came to a stop beside them, long fingers curled preventively around the back of the empty seat beside him. Claire’s eyes lightened up with amusement, while Chris only slowly turned his head to the side, meeting the questioned gaze of the boy. Now, with the scarf pulled down, he could get a good look on his face. His features were broad yet soft around the edges. Up close, he didn’t look as young as Chris had feared but still young enough not to be hit on by someone his age. 

“Can I sit here?” His voice was surprisingly deep. The boy – young man – was probably between 20 and 25 years old. The lack of innocent youth was somewhat startling, although it wasn’t too surprising considering the time they lived in. Nevertheless, his soul seemed older than his body was. 

While Claire raised his brows at him, Chris had trouble getting his teeth apart. Although all he needed to say was a simple affirmative, he was sure that he’d be embarrassing himself once he actually decided to answer. Looking at the slightly parted full lips, which not even the authors of those romantic novels could describe Jill read in her spare-time, all he could wonder was how they would feel around his dick – and it was so horribly wrong to think something like that. Chris felt the urgent need to fling himself out of the moving streetcar. 

“Help yourself!” Claire piped up and the boy turned his head a little. A small smile played around the corner of his mouth. His very pretty mouth. Chris would love to trace it with his finger, memorize the missing Cupid’s bow on the upper lip, bite the plump bottom lip and watch those tight lips stretch around his- “Don’t mind my brother, he’s kind of anti-social.” 

A low chuckle escaped the boy, as Chris was brought back into reality by his sister’s words. He needed to wrap his thoughts around something else or this encounter will be humiliating rather quickly. 

“It’s fine,” He said sitting down beside Chris. Their knees bumped as he put his gym bag on the ground between his feet. “I don’t wanna bother. I just don’t want to break my neck in case the streetcar isn’t prepared for this shitty weather.” Chris slowly but surely felt himself fall for his voice, a deep baritone, a rough edge to it. 

“Are they ever?” Claire asked with a laugh to her voice. Chris envied her small talk skills. It shouldn’t be too hard to simply talk to someone you had just met. But he just never seemed to manage it. He couldn’t think about something to say. 

Chuckling, the boy sipped on his drink, licking his lips afterwards as if to torture Chris further. “No,” He stated smirking, “I’d usually drive but my mother hid my car keys so I didn’t really have much of a choice.” His mother. Chris barely resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands and suffer in mortification. He needed a sex-life, now. And preferably with someone who was at an age Chris wouldn’t feel like he’d commit a crime when fucking them into the mattress. 

“I wouldn’t have left my house to exercise,” Claire commented on the statement. Chris wanted it to be over, quickly. Then he could get drunk to forget everything and decidedly not dream about what those lips could do to him.  
The boy chuckled again. “I was at work.” 

“At work?” How did his sister do that? How did she manage to keep a conversation rolling without sounding nosy or like a total dumbass? “What do you do for a living? Modeling?” 

For a second, the boy looked a little embarrassed. “Uh, I’m a sniper, actually.”

That got Chris attention. Honestly, that was more than a little surprising. The boy didn’t look too much like a soldier, more like a guy going to college and being comfortable and hot in front of a camera. Chris knew judging a person by their looks wasn’t the way to go but he’s been around snipers for years now and none of them was even remotely similar to his newfound seatmate. One could see they had caused death. The boy may not seem innocent but he did look more of someone who had grown up too soon instead of someone who killed for a living. 

“A sniper?” Claire sounded as surprise as Chris felt. “No way, how old are you?”

Okay. Scratch the nosy part. “Claire!” He turned to shoot the boy an apologetic glance. There was a small embarrassed smile playing around the boy’s lips and he didn’t look at Chris, instead busied himself with his drink. “My little sister doesn’t know when to shut up.” 

The boy stared down at the cup, one long finger tapping on the lid. “Don’t worry,” He replied eventually, biting his lower lip as he turned his head to meet Chris’ eyes. The hazel color was intense, and emotions were all too readable. He hadn’t seen eyes this unguarded in a long time, had never seen amusement so clearly shining in someone’s eyes as he did in those of the young man. “It’s not easy being a big brother.” 

And that would be the perfect start of a conversation but Chris couldn’t bring himself to pry into the boy’s private life. It seemed wrong, especially since his intentions weren’t pure. His first and foremost interest would be to spread the boy on his bed and fuck him until the hazel was dark with lust and the only thing he could say was Chris’ name. Then he would think about getting to know him. Maybe. Because as bad as his relationships had been in his younger years, a good affair seemed more appealing than anything else. Honestly, Chris craved human touch more than reciprocated feelings. But the boy was young, and Chris doubted his intentions would be, if at all, nothing but pure. He didn’t seem to be the type of guy who would sleep around. 

Again, Chris had to remind himself that he shouldn’t judge by looks. 

“How many siblings do you have?” Claire kicked his shin, and although the movement was quick and small – the two double seats facing each other didn’t leave much legroom for adults – the boy seemed to have noticed it. There was just something in his eyes, and this time his expression was more guarded. He didn’t exactly appear to be unapproachable all of the sudden. Instead Chris would call it careful. 

“Three,” He answered cocking his head a little to his side. No, Chris realized, He isn’t careful. He’s trying to figure them out. “All brothers.”

Claire laughed. “Your poor mother.” 

The boy’s eyes fixed on the window, then he met Chris’ for a second, who was still staring at him, before he turned his attention back to Claire. “Oh, we’ve been drilled from an early age,” He said amusement lacing his tone, “Our mother had it pretty easy. Perks of marrying into a family with a history of military.”

Chris couldn’t help but look at the boy’s profile. From this angle, he could see the Cupid’s bow although it was more implied than completely visible. The slope of his nose was slightly turned down and he created the impression that he was concentrated, the way his eyebrows were ever so little drawn in. 

“My brother is military, too,” Claire pointed at Chris who turned to look out of the window. Somehow, he was pretty sure the boy noticed that he was staring anyway. But he didn’t mention it, instead only moved a little. Their knees bumped again, and his left arm pressed against Chris’ right. He couldn’t help but look in his direction again, and a nice scent hit him as he found himself closer to the boy than he expected. He smelled fresh and woody, somewhat oriental, clearly a perfume. But there was something else, something Chris couldn’t really put a finger on. 

“Looked like the type,” The boy replied after he’d pulled the vibrating phone out of his pocket. Before Chris could get a proper look at the caller ID, a long finger rejected the call and the phone vanished again. Although he didn’t really talk with him, Chris felt excitement run through his body as he realized that the boy rather talked to them than to one of his friends or family members. “He’s as moody as my boss at the Green Berets.”

“You’re with the Green Berets?” Chris caught Claire leaning back with a small smile on her face. Huh. That was what she had been trying. He should’ve known she wouldn’t let go before Chris started talking on his own. Of course directing the conversation towards their jobs would help him get over his poor conversational skills. 

The boy hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything else. Why wasn’t Chris too surprised that the sniper made him work for the continuation of the small talk? Although it wasn’t really small talk anymore, was it? Now it was real interest. Especially since Chris was looking for a good marksman for a while now. Maybe this boy was just what he was searching for. 

“Since when?”

“Since I finished school,” The boy shrugged, seemed almost bored. A lot of people his age would be eager to tell about their job with the Green Berets. Especially since only a chosen few were even assigned to the Special Forces after all. “Don’t know. Almost four years I think.” Chris noticed the deep frown.

Then he noticed the boy’s age. Twenty-two. Twenty-three, tops, depending on when his birthday was. Chris Redfield had the hots for a guy who only just entered his twenties. Claire will never let him live that down. But he couldn’t deny there was something about the boy drawing him in. He was irresistible.

“What about you?” The boy cocked his head again, eyes fixated on Chris in a way that made him nervous. The sniper seemed as if he had him figured out, while Chris was still trying to wrap his head around the pieces thrown at him. 

“Captain,” He answered numbly and the boy raised his eyebrows. Chris shook his head only slightly, trying to get his thoughts back in order. “I’m Captain of the BSAA’s Alpha Team.” 

The boy nodded. Chris blinked in return. Had he been wrong about him? He’d expected more than a nod, honestly. To become Captain wasn’t an easy road, and most soldiers showed more than a little respect or acknowledgment when they met one. But the sniper was completely calm. It made him more interesting than Chris liked to admit. 

“I’ll gotta go now,” The boy said as the streetcar slowed down, silently asking Chris to hold his coffee cup. Claire kicked his shin again as Chris watched him put on his glove and throw the gym bag over his shoulder. First as he stood up Chris realized their legs had been aligned the whole time. They looked at each other, Chris feeling unable to break the eye contact. The boy lingered, almost seemed as if he was waiting for something. The phone was still clutched in his hand. 

As the streetcar came to a halt, the boy jerked into motion slowly retreating backwards. “It was nice meeting you two,” He waved good-bye and hurried out of the already closing doors. Still in awe, Chris watched the boy walk through the snow storm, scarf pulled up in an attempt to block out the snow and the cold. 

“What was that?!” Claire exclaimed as the boy’s frame was out of sight. “He was clearly interested in you!”

Chris couldn’t help but stare at the forgotten cup in his hand (it was an apple-cinnamon flavored cappuccino. Not that he tasted it). “You always meet twice,” He replied but dread was pooling in his stomach. They might not. Especially not in their line of work.

“Yeah, but mostly it’s too late by then,” Claire sounded exhausted and Chris choked on something he couldn’t name. 

\--------

Almost a year later, Chris was standing at the back of a shooting range, watching a sniper during his training. He never missed a target, effortlessly fulfilling what was said about him. Nothing seemed impossible. For the first time since being around soldiers, Chris saw a young man shoot an anti-material rifle in a standing position. 

After his training, the sniper’s captain introduced them. “Chris,” There was a proud smile on the soldier’s features. Understandably. Chris wouldn’t feel any different if one of his men would get the chance to follow a higher purpose. “This is Piers Nivans. He’s a marksman without peer.”

“I know,” Chris replied, “That’s why I came.”

The sniper was silent, guarded. He changed in the last year, his shoulders became a little broader, his stance more upright. Chris learned that this was his default setting during work. He also learned that Piers was bored and disillusioned working with the Green Berets.

Since Piers was assigned to the BSAA, the other teams envied Chris. The boy made his job better than anyone could have expected. He became the top sniper, the man – although most people addressed him with kid – who never missed his target. There was nothing he couldn’t do as it seemed, no matter in what kind of situation he was thrown into. He was smart, fast, adapted quickly. 

As Chris named him ATL there wasn’t any doubt that Piers was the one becoming Captain when he retired. 

But there was something else, some thorn Chris hadn’t expected to drill into his heart. Piers was young, he was attractive – and he knew he was. Although that didn’t make him arrogant it made him a flirt. Chris watched him smile at others, watched him kiss women and men alike, and watched him leave with them. He always drove home and ended up drunk after witnessing it, always called his sister because maybe this time it would be the one who Piers decided to settle with. 

But Piers never had a relationship during the time they worked together, never took home the same person twice. Yet Chris suddenly knew Claire had been right. It was too late. There was nothing he could do but hope that someday the hazel eyes would look at him the same way they did that first time.

 

\--------

 

When they meet for the third time, Chris didn’t recognize Piers at first but his drunken brain came up with the idea to ask him if he wanted to put his strong hands and pretty mouth to better use. Luckily, the boy didn’t let him talk and instead confronted him with facts. 

As he remembered Piers, Chris had to see that the boy he knew had changed yet again. His patience had worn thin, he was losing his temper quicker than before although Piers was known to have his little tantrums once in a while, tantrums Chris knew how to handle, tantrums that wouldn’t go unnoticed if the boy wasn’t one of the best soldiers the BSAA had. Pier was harsh, uncompromising, possessed unwavering dedication, a little too reckless when it came down to his own live, too protective when it came down to his Captain’s. 

Piers had to grow up even more in those six months, was in charge of soldiers who were years older than him. They all listened, never disobeyed. The hazel eyes Chris couldn’t seem to forget were cold now, determined, fixated on the goal. The boy didn’t flirt anymore or kissed, he never took anyone home. He was only soldier now, a soldier and Chris’ moral compass. He guided and protected him when Chris was the one who should do it.

He saw himself in the boy and he knew he had to stop it before it was too late.  
He never got the chance to do so.

 

\-------- 

 

He’d been lying to himself. For almost four years, Chris told himself nothing but lies. It wasn’t enough. Never had been enough. But the full force of his attempt to be content with just being around Piers had hit him after a sacrifice that shouldn’t have been made in the first place. 

Since the 1st of July Chris had gone nowhere without his Lieutenant’s badge. Since the 9th of July he visited the BSAA laboratories daily, watching the mutated body of the boy he’d met five year ago slowly change back to its human shape. He wished, he could talk to him, touch him – show Piers that he was by his side. But they were separated by a cage made of glass. A cage filled with water. Piers looked peaceful, with his eyes closed, arms crossed over his naked chest and knees pulled in. He looked like a kid, small and innocent, almost as if he were sleeping – if not for the breathing apparatus helping him survive, or the scars on his body where his skin was already healed. Or the parts of his body which were still ripped open and refused to heal.

All Chris could wish for was for Piers to be strong enough to survive. 

Because maybe when they meet for the fourth time, he will be able to tell the hazel eyed boy that he was in love with him.

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my mother tongue, so I apologize for the mistakes I've made. 
> 
> This isn't exactly the first fanfiction I've written but the first I actually decided to post because I am quite happy with it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading it. When I have more time at hand, I'll try to write more.


End file.
